


Shorts and sappy

by Aijja



Series: Tumblr prompt series [1]
Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fluff, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Not Serious, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aijja/pseuds/Aijja
Summary: Mostly feel good, silly fluffiness. Written for Prompts on Tumblr and published there, then edited and added here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are all Steve/Clint this far but more pairings to come as I write these/ get more prompts.
> 
> Prompt:  
> /Whispers to prompt/ Steve is a notorious cuddler. Total octopus who just squishes anything and everything that around him in his sleep. Clint gets the brunt of it. And often wakes up with his face buried in Steve's chest/stomach or trapped in the most skewed and awkward positions. One time, after a bad mission, Clint picks up the habit and cuddles instead. Literally wraps himself around Steve's head like a puppy curling around his owner. Or a hawk nesting on the hawker (it's falconer right?) 
> 
> This kind of ran away from me. Neither of them would behave.

 

The first time it happens is after a gruesome two weeks of Cap running all over the world. The others have been staying stateside and been more or less taking it easy. Natasha has been doing something light infiltration that takes her away only every few days and only a day at most. Bruce and Tony have been doing their usual labrat thing and emerged only for food and pizza nights. The pizza nights had used to include movies to catch Steve up but since he was gone they had forgone that and just had some dinner once a week together. Clint has been doing his usual, training, shooting and going to his psych as a good SHIELD agent should. He misses the usual rhythm of his life with missions and structured life. Nowadays, after New York he’s got more downtime than ever, less structure and it feels wrong. He feels ungrounded in ways that he hasn’t in years. He has a place in the Tower, in the Team, he knows this. Know that Tony isn’t going to kick him, kick anyone of them out. At least not without a good reason. And as Clint has a lot of down time and no plans he starts browsing listing for properties, starting from flats in Bed-Sty, in horrible conditions and the proceeds to get fundamentally lost in his boredom and look at farms in the middle of nowhere to renovate. Then thankfully Steve comes back and it’s first movie night the same night with tons of Chinese and he forgets about it. They are watching Star Trek and Tony is explaining all the different versions of how the show revolutionized the students and resulted in a lot the inventions he came up with in college. Bruce pipes in with the social commentary of how great the show is and Steve just nods and listens. He sits close to Clint on the couch, Nat being the little shit she is taking half of the couch, legs pulled by her side, lounging with her cup of spiced tea. Steve thrusts the plates and cartons away three episodes in and stretches his longs legs in the coffee table. Tony makes a rude noise but gets no reactions. By the next episode Steve is leaning against Clint, heavy and warm, pinning him against the armrest. At the end of the episode his head is on Clint's shoulder arms around his waist, snoring softly. Clint sends panicked looks at the others but they pretend not to notice. Assholes. Still, is Steve is this tired… Clint sighs in defeat and gets comfy. He falls asleep with soft breath tickling his hair and strong arms around him. Warm. Safe. When he wakes up, he's alone.

The second time it's Clint’s fault. He falls into an icy river in the middle of hush-hush-you’re-not-supposed-to-be-here. It’s just him, Cap and Bruce this time, though at the very end Bruce hung back in with the exac team, for a just in case scenario. It’s not needed, their intel had thought the threat bigger than it was and Clint had been enough for Cap and a small strike force to run through and clean the complex of the traffickers. Thankfully dealing only with weapons that were still packed away in their would be hiding places for future shipping. So minimal resistance and Cap doing most of the grunt work should have meant that Clint would come out of this unscathed. But no such luck. The last five were sneakier, four to distract Cap and one took of running. And Clint could have shot the guy it could have been easier, but orders were to get as many of them alive as possible, so he took off running after him, leaving the rest of them to Cap and others. Running in snow and cold was not ideal but he was in peak condition and kinda wanting to impress Cap as well. But the guy is running for his life and Clint can’t reach him quickly enough, so one neat arrow through the thigh does the trick, making the man crumble down in the snow. Whatever he’s trying to take away must be important since bleeding on the snow he still tries to get away. Limping and slow but trying anyway. Clint tackles the guy just before he reaches a still rapidly flowing river. He sees Clint running towards him and chucks the backpack he had on him towards the river and Clint curses. He’s enough of a professional to knock the annoying twerp out and shoot a grappling hook at a nearby tree , attaching it to his belt, before abandoning all his excess equipment and jumping behind the floating pack. The icy water was a shock as he jumped feet first in and almost managed to keep his head above the surface.The current takes ahold of him and drags him away from the bank and Clint starts swimming, keeping his eyes on his price, mindful of the fact that he only has a certain length of wire left. He swims and tries to not drown. A rock hits his leg and then his side but he has only a certain amount of time left so he soldiers through and just manages to snatch the pack as he feels a sharp tug on his waist and the line runs out. Clint releases a wet, breathless whoop of joy as the line tenses more and he’s being dragged back, towards the shore. He drags the back with one hand, swims with other towards the shore. Dragging himself up the bank is hard as his fingers have lost the feeling and he’s shaking all over. But he manages it, dripping water and breathing deeply on all fours, shivering and feeling like an icicle. He hears running steps and manages to get up on his feet.

“Clint, you idiot!” Steve yells at him and that wasn’t what he was expecting.

“What? It must be important ‘cause the guy tried to get away with it so badly!” He defends his actions, teeth chattering and when it got so dark and cold?

“Not that! You could have just shot the thing with the grapple and not jumped after it,” Steve bellows at him, face inches away from his. Clint blinks.

“Oh. Right… That was stupid,” he admits and Steve sighs, wrapping himself around Clint. Clint grips the precious black, sodding wet backpack in his arms as Steve crushes him.

“Let’s go before you freeze to death and Natasha has my balls for not keeping you alive,” Steve starts pushing Clint into a slight jog, hands still on his shoulders as he pushes him back the tracks he made earlier. Clint giggles, there’s a slight manic edgy to it, and lifts his legs enough to move forward at a slow jog. It starts to make him warmer but his toes and fingers tingle with needle pricks.

“You said balls.” Thankfully Steve doesn’t hit him. Though it is embarrassing that Bruce throws the shock blankets at him and glares and fusses around him, until he’s wrapped into them in the corner of the quinjet. He has heating bads warming his toes anr fingers, Bruce is kicking the soaking wet outer clothes into a pile while Cap handles the rest of the wrap up. Clint kinda starts to nap but apparently Bruce is a big meanie and gives him a little kick every now and then so he doesn’t fall asleep. They also try to get him up and moving but he’s not having it because it’s warmish and nice just where he is, thanks. Cap sees this but let’s him be until they are up and moving and then suddenly Cap is giving everyone a real nice show as he strips down of his field uniform. Clint may or may not be watching behind half lidded eyes and slightly open mouth. He doesn't drool. Someone wolf whistles but Steve ignores it and tugs at the edge of Clint’s, (it’s a nest isn’t it?), blankets.

“Let me in. Body heat,” Steve explains, crouching down in just his under suit that clings deliciously to his chest. Clint is so dumbfounded that he kinda just lets him in. Steve, unsurprisingly gathers Clint as close to him as possible, not minding the damp clothes, all limbs hugging him close. The are snickers but they are ignored because this is comfy and warm.

Bruce makes a few amused glances at them but Clint thanks every deity he can that Tony doesn’t find out about it. The plan fails because they don't count on Bruce being a sneaky troll and a blood traitor, having snapped pictures of them cuddling in a big pile of hideous orange blankets. 

\-----------------------

The next three or so times blend together as Clint gets a really bad case of the cold (someone mutters something about influenza or pneumonia but Clint is miserable and doesn’t listen because he’s dying).The few times he’s aware enough to know it he finds Steve right there, being his own personal heater. And a lovely octopus that smiles at him and makes him drink stuff before wrapping him safe again in his arms. Crushing him. It should be annoying but Clint decides to be annoyed later. After he finishes dying, preferably.

\---------------

The final time, before their first kiss, it’s Clint who comes in, tired and grumpy. He has had a bad night and an even worse day following it and if he wasn’t a superhero he would crawl into a corner and cry. Still considers it but he must power through. Must live up to the hype somehow. But then there is Steve. Sitting on a very comfy couch and watching Dog cops. And Clint can’t help himself, so he goes over and. just. slides over the backrest of the thing and into Steve’s lap. Arms hugging around the middle, face buried in his lap. Steve doesn’t even hesitate, hand going in his hair, petting him. He doesn't say anything. He's just Steve. And finally Clint relaxes.

They stay like that for a long while. At some point he turns his head so he can follow the plot but otherwise neither of them moves. They stay like that until after the credits roll and commercials start, before Steve bends over him and places a small kiss on his cheek.

“Come to bed with me?” he asks and Clint nods. Steve the bastard carries him but it’s allowed just this once, Clint thinks as he clings tighter.Steve's bed is big and empty only for a moment as they both brush teeth and shed most of their clothes in heaps on the floor. Neither moving more than an arms length away from the other.

Under the covers they finally kiss. Just a light brush of lips before drifting off to sleep again, tightly wrapped around each other.


	2. Amerihawk - first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked for Steve/Clint first time but non-nsfw. So nothing explicit here kids. Except occasional swearing.

His skin is itching and his fingers twitch with jitters as Clint washes his face in the bathroom sink. The cold water helps somewhat and the man staring back at him from the mirror looks a lot more like a man that Cap wants in his bed tonight. No, scratch that thought, he corrects himself, he looks like a man that Steve wanted to take to a few dates before even thinking about sexing up with. And now, with two successful dates and one disastrous one before this one, this was it. He actually got to take Steve home with him, or the other way around because while Steve liked Lucky he had made a rule about no dogs on the bed while they were in it. Clint loved his dog but he kind of agreed that he didn’t want Lucky’s stupid face staring at him while he was doing the nasty with Steve, with the fucking Captain America. So they had a tentative agreement to do this date properly, with a visit to the Central Park zoo with a nice dinner after, and then go to Steve’s Brooklyn apartment and hopefully fuck like rabbits into morning. The bad thing to this was that he was getting jitters. Which was ridiculous. He had never had jitters, not this bad, before sex.   
Then again... If he was honest none of his previous encounters had been this well thought out. This was a planned day when both of them knew where it was headed. To bed. Usually it was a drunken one night stand or a hot brief fling with someone who usually found only after the matter how screwed up he was. They usually had backed up and left within a fortnight of Clint's 'normal' day to day life. He had never been surprised. His life was a dangerous mess. But Steve was different. Steve knew going in what a mess he was. What a mess his life was, their lives were. And still he wanted Clint. Had made that clear with his words and in his actions.   
Clint grinned at himself and wiped the excess water off. He was going to get lucky in a spectacular way. Still grinning he wiped his face into the sleeve of his shirt, not minding that Nat would have had his hive for ruining the shirt she had hand picked for him. 

Walking back he found Steve waiting for him, jackets in hand, big smile on his face. Clint fought the blush that was creeping on his face and took the offered help with the jacket and did twine his fingers with Steve’s when he offered his hand to him. He was holding hands with Steve Rogers. He was feeling like a little kid that got his favourite treat after waiting for a goddamn forever.

Their trip back to Brooklyn is almost chaste as they wander the streets to and from the subway, the time spent underground spend talking about their meal and after that nothing at all. The last few blocks though, Clint's grip tightens and his palm feels sweatier than usual when the looks they have exchanged all evening turn more heated and Steve's steps start to gain a bit more speed compared to their leisurely pace before. Clint feels his heart thumping in his chest as he hastens to keep up, hanging onto a strong arm that keeps him standing when he stumbles on the sidewalk. The giddy feeling burst out in bubbling laughter. People are staring but Steve just tugs Clint to his side smiling widely as they stumble together. Finally they are in the elevator and as soon as the door closes Clint is drawing Steve nearer to him by the front of his shirt while Steve unceremoniously just picks him up and presses him against the mirrored back wall of the elevator.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” Steve mumbles against his lips as they kiss for the 52nd time. Not that Clint has kept count. He wraps his arms around the unbelievably wide shoulders and bites the plump lower lip.

“Probably less than I have wanted to climb you like a tree,” he manages to say before Steve is kissing him again with hunger. They lose themselves into each other until the elevator stops with a groan and a screech, the door opening to a thankfully empty hallway. Being the smug motherfucker he is, Steve heaves Clint on his shoulder and carries him to the apartment door. Clint is left to just hang on and stare at the rather nice view of Steve's behind. It's nice and firm when he squeezes it to test. It takes multiple unlocking attempts and a stumble and enthusiastic wrestle match to the bedroom but now Clint has Steve spread nicely on his back, in actual bed, while sitting on top of him.

“I really hope your bed doesn’t squeak,” Clint smiles downwards while unbuttoning the rather nice looking grey shirt. Steve grins at him impishly and caresses his bare sides gently, the touch leaving a hot imprint behind.

“If they didn’t before they’ll do it after tonight.” Clint laughs at the promise but bends down to kiss his… Steve again. (Don't put labels on things, it will backfire)

In the morning Clint wakes up sore but happy with Steve puttering around in the tiny kitchenette, making breakfast, with coffee already brewing. It’s completely alien morning after for him but one he’s eager to repeat as many times as it takes to grow accustomed to it. Groaning at his own embarrassing thoughts he shuffles out of the bed and into the waiting arms and morning kisses of Steve.

After breakfast they figure out that while the bed doesn’t squeak, the couch does.


End file.
